The wind was something at the Webstock speakers camp.

Or as Kris says, "I didn't go to Judge School for five years to be called Miss."

When booking my tickets, I was required to specify an honorific. My choices were "Mr." "Mrs." "Miss" "Dr." and "Hon". Given those choices being marked for a woman (a woman must declare her marriage status, when a man does not), I thought screw it, I'm going as a Judge.

Problem was, the people at the check-in counter thought my first name was Hon and had troubles reconciling my passport with my ticket. Heaven forbid a woman is not a Miss or a Mrs when coming through the line. If they weren't going to respect the Honorable honorific, why include it?

Fundamentally, though, the Hodsden Orneriness bit me in the ass. Again.

I feel that nearly everything that could go wrong with house has gone wrong with this house. That's not exactly a valid statement, I can think of at least a dozen things that could have gone wrong with this house in addition to the things that have gone wrong with the house. Those dozen things don't lessen the frustration with the giant list of everything that has gone wrong with this house.

The house had termite damage so extensive the contractors didn't really understand why it was still standing. Everything was delayed in the reconstruction. The floors were uneven, the foundation had sunk in one corner. The beams over the beautiful large doors have sagged. The original duct work was in the slab foundation (did I mention the house had a slab foundation IN THE MIDWEST, which guarantees freaking cold floors in the winter, but delightfully cool floors in the humid summer), and had to be moved to the attic. The attic isn't insulated, so that winter snow? Doesn't stick to THIS roof. The pipes backed up my first night here. The shower curtains fell despite being tightened beyond my usual strength. The wood floors warped. There are sounds in the house that are terrifying alone at night.

The kicker in my mind is THE KITCHEN CABINET DOORS WARPED. I have seriously never heard about kitchen cabinet doors warping. Ever. Not even in my grandparent's farm house did the kitchen cabinet doors warp.

And, of course, there was the f'ing fireball in the face last November.

So, of course, we joke the house is haunted.

Diana had a sensitive friend visit her house, and asked the friend if she felt anything in Diana's house. The friend said no, she didn't feel anything. They came over to my house and unprompted, the friend commented, "Now here, I feel something."

Always something.

The last of the big fixes were done today. The sliding glass doors were replaced.

The last thing.

The drafts are gone. The flue closes. The doors lock without a two by four in the door.

At this point, I want to make peace with the ghost of the house.

Or at least have a talisman that stops the craziness with this house.

So.

Since my plastic spoons seem unable to scoop out the chocolate chip batter from the tub, I went to the local Goodwill and, for the first time in my life, bought something from the retail shop there. I bought a set of utensils and two mugs. The mugs match, and, once I scrubbed the heck out of them to remove all the black marks and coffee stains out of them, are exactly what I was looking for in mugs. I can now have someone over to the house, make tea for her, and have a mug to hand her.

Also, I have decided these are the talismans I was looking for.

I dub these mugs, the Skyline Talismans:

If I have a ghost, I can freakin' have a talisman that minimizes that ghost's effectiveness.

Yeah.